Mr.Marmalade opened, and it has been nothing but full houses, laughing people, and a grand time.
And by grand time, I mean an incredibly drunken, stumbling back to the car, kind of a time.
I have this problem that started quite some time ago, when I was about 21, and has just recently resurfaced.
I do not enjoy being called a quitter. In any aspect of my life, but especially when it comes to adult beverages.
(Which is when my tolerance and love for the whiskey first started.)
Then, this past Mardi Gras, two of my good friends, (who happen to be large men, one well over six feet tall), kept calling me a quitter.
They realized this was the easiest way to get me to keep drinking with them.
I'm always game for a good drunk time, but to try and keep up with grown men, when I, myself, am but a five foot two tiny woman.
Not the smartest thing I could be doing.
Luckily, it was Mardi Gras, and my birthday. So the fact that I had drank an entire bottle of champagne, and half a liter of Jameson before noon was almost acceptable.
After those fellas had left for the summer, I decided that there is truly no need to keep up with people bigger than me. Or just because they call me a quitter. It's ok to not be a drunken hot mess all the time.
And then the play opened. And our friend Kristin, from Jersey, wants to do nothing but go out and get wasted.
Naturally, I feel obligated to show her a good time.
Opening night we all went to the Boondock.
It was quite nice. I didn't pay for a single drink. The perks of being a local celebrity. (And guilting friends who take all your cigarettes into buying you drinks.)
My favorite quote of the evening was when Kristin kept asking me if I wanted to get some food, and I repeatedly told her, "No!! I don't want to ruin this drunk!"
Towards the end of the night, four shots and four Purple Hazes in, AJ and Casie decided we needed to be doing Car Bombs.
Apparently, I wanted nothing to do with that.
But, with enough coaxing, they managed to convince me that just doing two more shots of Jameson, while they drank the Car Bombs would be an equal trade off.
I agreed of course.
Thankfully, all my friends made sure we got to my car, and Kristin drove home for me. I don't really remember this.
But when I got in my car the next morning, my seat was moved up, the rearview mirror was all askew, and the parking break was on.
Fucking midget northerners!
All and all, a good time was had by everyone.
I guess I didn't really mind that I wasted all of yesterday by just sitting on my couch, and watching When Harry Met Sally.
Oh wait, I went to Walgreens.
NOT a wasted day after all.
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